It was a long drive last night for Van, the driver, especially since I played banjo (relatively quietly) for the first hour and a half. I climbed into the bunk at about 1am. A bus bunk is a wondrous thing, a dark, warm, quiet cocoon with AC and DC outlets, a pouch for sundry items, and a reading light. The bunk area has a door on either end, and when they are shut and the lights all off, the bunk is in nearly complete darkness. I climbed in, pulled the curtain, read a little G.K. Chesterton, put my phone on airplane mode, and went straightaway to dreamland. I slept fairly well, waking once as the bus swooned through the winding mountain bits of I-90 to Missoula, and woke again at the Doubletree hotel.
The venue was Ogren Park, a baseball field also used for concerts. The sun at sound check made me feel like a chicken leg under the heat lamp at KFC, but other than that everything went well. Showtime came quickly, and it went well. During our encore it was great to see so many people singing along, especially on When You Say Nothing At All, Whiskey Lullaby, and I Went Down to the River to Pray.
The crew did the set change and Willie’s show started. I always have fun watching him play guitar, so quirky and unique. At the end I went out to sing with Barry, Dan, and Alison on Willie’s gospel medley.
The bus is rolling again, American Ninja on television as I write this. More Chesterton reading is in my immediate future. Tomorrow is a day off in Idaho.
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